


you drive me ananas, but i love you

by MistyDeath



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Anniversary, Beaches, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Married Couple, Pineapples, Snark, pina coladas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 14:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16160480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyDeath/pseuds/MistyDeath
Summary: “Besides, I like the pineapple, sweet, but it bites you back. Just like you.”





	you drive me ananas, but i love you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nifflers_n_nargles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nifflers_n_nargles/gifts), [hogwartsfirebolt (lostgansey)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostgansey/gifts), [Snortinglaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snortinglaughter/gifts), [unicornsandphoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornsandphoenix/gifts).



> Dedicated to my pineapple loving wives, may we never lose our taste for adventure!

“Potter I just have to let you know that is monstrosity is in, absolutely, no way, appropriate for pizza. Actually,” Draco chewed slowly, “I’m not even sure if what we’re eating is pizza.”

“It’s got ham, pineapple, and some peppers on it,” Harry argues, “what in the world is wrong with you? You love all of those things!”

Draco drops the second half of the slice and slides it to the edge of his plate. He’s not touching the rest of it. He’s not even sure if he’s going to be able to eat it if he pulls off the pineapple. “I didn’t say I loved them all together!”

“This coming from the man that begged me, the Gryffindor, to try that fucked up peanuts in a soda drink.” Draco smirked. This vacation in Florida was something else, that was for sure. He’d never dreamed that they would find so many wonderful things on the drive down. Draco was never taking Apparation for granted, but he’d come to love the insanity of watching Harry panic about driving in _this shit hole one lane gator infested mother_ – and the wonderful little fruit stands they’d seen along the way.

After Harry had coughed up the peanuts and thrown a rather mutinous glare his way, Draco had said if Harry couldn’t stand it there wasn’t a chance in Hell he could, and that he’d promptly vomit it on him come the chance. He’d stuck to the cute little strawberries the woman had offered him instead.

“Well I can’t say I encouraged it, I only implied it might be tasty. Unlike that tripe.”

“Ha. You actually like tripe, what the hell, Draco!” Harry’s halfway through a third slice and really, the fact that Draco might actually eat stomach lining over this pizza baffles him. “Besides, I like the pineapple, sweet, but it bites you back. Just like you.”

The blank stare Harry gets is beyond worth it. “Please go fuck yourself.”

“I’ve got you to do that, thanks!”

“Not if I have any say in the matter – “

He’s cut off by the bar band making some comment or other about taking a break, and then there’s a terrible high-pitched noise indicating the band has unplugged from the sound system. Draco’s only looking over to see if there’s anything he needs to kill, because Merlin it sounds like there’s an animal dying in need.

“I will never understand Muggle stereo systems –" “Draco, calm down, they’ll get another thing going – oh! There’s one – oohhh now that’s a classic.”

Harry’s bopping his head along to the music, and Draco’s confused. There’s a guitar, of course it’s not classical – and now the man’s bleeding singing about possibly cheating on his wife. Why on earth is this appropriate for their -

_If you like piña coladas_  
_And getting caught in the rain_  
_If you’re not into yoga_  
_If you have half a brain_

_If you like making love at midnight_  
_In the dunes in the cape_  
_I’m the love that you’ve looked for_  
_Come to me and escape_

It’s still ridiculously humid, and where Harry thought that he’d be more irritated and tired, he’s feeling pretty warm and happy right about now. Draco’s still got the white and blue striped tank top from the day on, his hair fluffy and crunchy at the same time, tinged with sea salt and sweat from their snorkeling trip. Harry can’t even imagine what his looks like, but the outdoor shower earlier had thankfully cleaned their board shorts enough for them to be comfortable, so the strange, hazey feeling of being worn out and energized is just making its way back to him.

Lucky for Harry, it looks like the song is going to be on loop for the foreseeable future. Maybe if he can get a piña colada in Draco, they can find some deserted corner on the beach, screw their expensive hotel room. “You want to dance?”

Draco nearly chokes on the stupid non-piña colada but equally as fizzy drink he’s got. “You hate dancing.” He’s been concerned since the swaying started, initially concerned that he was going to have to be the responsible one, which, if he’s honest, he normally is. Unless Draco’s got a drink in his hand – which he does – he’d say that six times out of seven he’s being dragged into something ridiculous by Harry. Which is why the seventh time, he counted, was the peanuts.

“Yeah, but I just – just feel like dancing.” 

“What? To _this_? Are you drunk?”

He takes a particular large suck of the drink, feeling the icy cold drink both numb and light his throat on fire. It’s a strange thing, Draco muses, to have brain freeze while feeling so ridiculously hot. The feeling only increases when Harry takes a careful finger and swipes it around the rim of his drink, stealing all the salt like the craven child he is, and licks it off sloppily. Draco definitely does not watch this with a fervor. “Maybe. Wanna dance?”

With that hooded deep green gaze on him, Draco knows he’s only five seconds away from something fun. Fun usually means sex, so he’s certainly up for it. It is their honeymoon, after all. That’s how he finds himself doing a slow, stupid and slightly swaying dance with Harry, laughing nervously under his breath and biting back remarks when Harry’s arms wrap around him and he’s all too aware of the sweaty, sticky skin touching his own in a fashion that’s far too similar to sex.

Harry takes his silence as an excuse to lightly bite along his neck and bury his face in the crook of his neck, voice a low thrum against his skin and lips a hot, wet warmth that have Draco wanting to both squirm away and press closer.

“Hey….so…it’s about that time - it’s going to be – “

“You’re not fucking me in the sand.”

“Can I blow you in the sand?”

“…. maybe.” Harry pumps his fist in a quick victory and Draco has to smile. 

“Eat the pineapple when we get back to the table, then.”

His smile vanishes. “What.”

“Trust me. Or well, I guess you’ll see - _taste_ rather, later.” He winks obnoxiously and Draco flicks his ear in response.

Curiosity piqued, he wrangles himself out of Harry’s arms and drags him back to the table, spearing the pineapple pieces with his fork off the pizza before he bites into them. Harry giggles in that stupid, Gryffindor way when he’s getting something he wants. Draco leans forward on the table, eyes squinted slightly, eyes not entirely focused but somewhere else, if the flush on his face that definitely, okay maybe it could be, isn’t a sunburn, is anything to go by.

“The fuck - what the fuck are you on about?” Harry leans forward to meet him and gives him a quick kiss. “It’s a – _shhhh_ …surprise.”

Draco lets himself focus on undressing Harry with his eyes while the waiter takes their cheque, and follows his ridiculous husband to the beach, a smile on his face.

Harry’s going to faceplant into a fucking sand dune, the loveable fuck. 


End file.
